A whisky primer with tasting tips, reviews and recipes by Shane Helmick.

Category Archives: 3 – Try it

Last night I dreamed that cars had been replaced by flying, plexi-glass bubbles. The engines worked on a principal that only made sense in sleep, but one of the fun side-effects of the process was that the accelerator acted exponentially.

As long as the pilot kept their speed down and only accelerated in small, reasonable increments then the pilots would be fine. Every so often a person would be in a hurry, or sneeze, or simply make a bad decision, and jerk the accelerator too quickly. Recklessly approaching the asymptote of the rate of acceleration would shoot the pilots forward at unfathomable speeds, placing them so far away in a split second that they would likely never be able to turn around and accurately direct back to earth.

Whether this was an intentional design to subtly remove the most dangerous drivers from our travel-ways or an unavoidably cruel reality of the physics behind the device was unclear. I’m still not totally sure how I feel about people in a senseless rush randomly flinging themselves mathematically impossible distances through space… but my gut reaction is to chuckle in the most detached way possible. I wish whisky had a fail-safe like that, sometimes. “Oh you’re looking for a quarter cask because you don’t want to wait for a full size cask to mature?” *FLING*

Maybe we wouldn’t fling the distillers and their loyal retailers into the cold, dead vacuum of space… maybe just a quarter mile or so into the ocean. Just terrifying and far enough to teach them a lesson. Unfortunately, prepare for heartbreak, that’s not actually how whisky works.

The hyper-inflated craft-whisky scene seems to draw its biggest crowd from innocent people trying desperately to understand what all the fuss is about. I assume its next biggest crowd is people who don’t understand either but will tell you they do because they have money in the game. Fortunately, there are exceptions to this grim conspectus. For the next few posts we’ll talk about a contemporary, American distiller that seems to be eschewing the craze for small casks, staves, or fancy machines. Westland Distillery of Seattle, Washington.

I’m not going to wax poetic the entire time. It’s an ugly business and I’m not a huge fan of this flagship Single Malt. Not at the $60-70 which it seems to be retailing for. Not at two years old and definitely not in this format. Don’t let that detract from the fact that I’m a huge fan of what the distillery is doing. Stay tuned for my next reviews, a few other Westland malts, because this bottling is a poor example of what they’re capable of. Please don’t think the American Whisky is undrinkable, either, despite that I believe this is one of their worst offerings.

Think of that as good news! If you enjoy this one more than I do, which there’s a good chance you will, then you’re going to love the rest of their stuff as much as I do and it’s only going to get better.

Nose: It begins beautifully, like a classic, unpeated single malt Scotch. Malty and floral turns over to a dry, overpoweringly nutty hazelnut. Westland uses a lot of different roasts of malt, a few of the more heavily roasted malts account for the darker flavors. It’s very much an unrefined, beastlier version of Glenmortangie’s Signet, with coffee, dried orange peels, figs, and slightly burned chocolate. If they used a more delicate hand with the heartier roasts and aged it a little longer in the cask, I think it would be hard to drink anything else.

Palate: It tastes a lot younger than the nose lets on, at first. Loads of grain contributions. Carmelized sherry syrup, freshly washed coffee grinds, raw cocoa, and dusty canvas dominate all the lighter flavors. You can find a lot of apricot and orange peel, but with every other flavor shouting in your face it doesn’t go far enough to balance it for me. It has a slightly tangy finish, kind of like a well-aged rum. The palate really struggles to pair the nutty, roasty aspects with lighter notes, but I suspect cigar smokers wouldn’t notice or mind.

A bit pricey for me at the moment, but the payoff is definitely coming! This bottle is kind of unique in its category (American Single Malt) in that it doesn’t totally suck ass. Hurray!!!

Notice: If you’re a smoker, then disregard my TRY IT and consider this a strong RECOMMEND!

Today’s guest blogger produces a television program back in his native England titled Friday with Furray. A self-professed full-time whisky-writer, he’s only 16 years young but still old as hell in human years, and definitely smells like he’s been slightly damp for a very long time. He likes Buffalo Trace, but loooves going for a walk and will hump your leg whether you want him to or not. Here to talk with us about his decision on this year’s Most Unbelievably Delicious Turd, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, Jim Furray!

Jim:Rrrrrr-woof.

HTDW:Thank you. The pleasure is mine. Thanks for making the trip to come see us. So, I read your book and it says you’re from Corryketterburroughtonshire. How did you like growing up there?

Jim:Hrmphhh. (starts licking balls) Mmmrrrrrrrrr.

HTDW:Wow, that’s… heavy. You seem like such a casual guy about it all, though. Is that why you moved to Kentucky?

Jim:Rrrrr-oof. Rrrrrrrr-r-r-r-r-r. Hrmphhh.

HTDW:Hahahaha! Yea, I hear squirrel is a delicacy out there, but if I could change the direction of the conversation really quickly, can we talk about the whisky for a second?

HTDW:That’s certainly high praise. I’m not offended by it, but I wouldn’t say it’s heavenly… it’s a $30 bottle of Canadian whisky. That’s stuff for cooking or making cocktails… or making cocktails and cooking… or ma-

Jim:Arr…rr…rrrrrooooo. Ruff. (shits on carpet)

HTDW: Aw, what the hell is this??? Bad dog! Bad, bad dog! You’re lucky I don’t rub your face in that… somebody get this asshole out of here. Sorry about that folks.

Nose:A bit of cedar, spiced orange rind, and malt. There’s a Bourbon hint, but it’s more like a first-fill unpeated malt… or Cognac. Actually, it has a lot of those Cognac grape notes. Over the top rye perfume, like the chemical tincture Templeton uses to flavor their whisky. Is that… powdered carpet deodorizer? Actually, the more I smell it the more I think of carpet deodorizer, especially after taking a sip.

Palate:Watery. Canadian. Tastes a little bit like marshmallow, as if the light whisky component were replaced with Kansas’ mellow spirit whisky. It tastes a bit like wine; Cognac really. Rye kicks up once it makes it down into your chest. I really liked the first glass, but after another I started to feel like I was drinking perfume mixed with apple juice.

I understand feeling like you need a guide. It’s a huge market to explore. Maps are helpful, but nobody needs a gospel. Whisky is meant to be explored. It’s supposed to be fun, so while there are great whiskies and shitty ones, there is no singular “best whisky,” and if there were, it would never find itself on a shelf for $30.

As for Crown Royal overall, it’s cheap, not terrible, and widely available. It’s far from the worst whisky out there, but it’s not the best whisky in Canada, not the best in North America, and certainly not the best in the world.

*all characters appearing in this work are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

It’s not really Bourbon Buffalo Trace season anymore, but that’s what we’re talking about today because that’s how we roll here at How to Drink Whisky Enterprises. We are current as fuck and super diligent about blogging. We want you to be current as fuck with us because, dammit, you deserve it. But we respect that you’re a casual readership, too. You’re attention span is small. So small. Such a small, tiny attention span it is, but so valuable! So pay attention! This is important!!!

Do you or anyone you know do guerrilla landscaping? Like… if I paid you to spite-mow a giant dong on my neighbor’s lawn, would you do it? My neighbor’s lawn desperately needs a giant dong mowed into it. How much do you think that would cost?

Special Reserve – (45%)

Nose:Farmy with a minerally graphite. Sweet, wheat chaff and hot, buttered waffles. Not very complicated and without serious flaws.

Palate:Easy-going. Tempered butterscotch candies and diluted wood. Hint of vanilla. It’s almost like it comes out of the bottle with a splash of water already added. Easy palate. Easy finish. Easy easy easy.

This one is a no-brainer. For $20-30? Buy! Buy! Buy! Plus, like the Antique 107, people often buy single casks of this one for their store, club, or friends. These store picks can range from pedestrian to amazing, making for an affordable and collectible whisky experience.. not that we would ever recommend collecting bottles over drinking them.

Old Weller Antique 107 – (53.5%)

Nose:It starts minerally like the Special Reserve, but takes a quick turn and becomes spicy and sour, like a hit of undiluted lemon juice or a backyard pile of wet sawdust that’s just starting to ferment. Good but definitely more aggressive woodiness.

Palate:A bit of a kick. Short but bold finish with a slightly numbing tongue. Stripped down cinnamon and honey. Citrus rind.

This one could use an ice cube or two. No judgement here. Personally, I much prefer the Special Reserve. The sour note on the Antique kind of puts me off. It seems to me like they trade a bit of favorable flavor for a slightly sexier proof. Still, as with the Special Reserve, $20-30 is not a bad deal, and store picks can be exceptional.

12 Year – (45%)

Nose:Like a mix of the Special Reserve and 107, all the sour and vanilla, but balanced with a rich layer of vanilla and fruit, making the sour bearable and the vanilla richer. Raspberry sorbet. Those glowy red cocktail cherries. Cultured butter on granite.

Palate:Not nearly as harsh as the 107 and much sweeter, creamier vanilla than the Special Reserve. Birthday cake with chocolate frosting. Cinnamon. Citrus. Buttery. Not overwhelming but still a very seductive drinker.

I love this one. It’s no wonder it’s so hard to find. At roughly the same “honest” retail as the other two, this one takes the prize for me. That’s not to say I haven’t found store picks of the Special Reserve and Antique 107 that were as good or better than the average 12 year bottling.

Guerrilla landscapers interested in the position, please leave a link to your CV in the comments below. Cheers!

Compass Box is a blending house, so their obvious goal is to blend “accessible” whiskies. If you’re more of a fan of cask strength single malts or bolder American styles, these probably won’t be that enticing. Having said that, if Johnnie Walker is your benchmark for good blended whisky, then these are going to blow your mind. Personally, I’m cheering for them. I hope they’ll be able to wrestle the idea of blended Scotch away from the terror that lurks on those shelves today. It’s nice to see a few affordable blends that don’t suck.

Compass Box has a long history of smartly packaging their products, and this box set is no exception. The wooden box opens up to five vials of different Compass Box releases; Hedonism, Asyla, Oak Cross, Spice Tree, and Peat Monster. I really dig sample packs like this; all the fun of compulsively emptying vials like an alchemist of some sort, coupled with a chance to get a more fleshed out picture of the company’s vision before making a judgement about their talents.

So without further ado, let’s see how the whiskies stack up.

Hedonism (43%)Blended Grain

Nose:Light and sugary. Over-seasoned “greywood”. Dry almond, like a thumbprint cookie. Warm butterscotch. It has a bright bite to it, very much like a Canadian whisky. Freshly constructed barn rafters. A little water helps the perfume rise.

Palate:Mild with wisps of Sugar Crisp cereal. Buttery, cherry danish with sliced almonds. Dirty penny with slightly peppery notes that drag out the finish. Water dilutes the bitter metallic part a little bit and lets the caramel/vanilla notes’ show.

In a blind tasting, I would swear this was Canadian. I really don’t like very much Canadian style whisky, and this certainly isn’t my cup of tea, but if it were competing against all of the Canadian stuff I’ve tried, I’d say this is a great example.

Still, Canadian whisky is CHEAP! There’s no reason to buy this when there are so many more affordable whiskies coming out of Canada. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a great Canadian-style whisky if that’s what you’re looking for, but with a cost approaching $90, it’s definitely over-priced. At half the price, try looking for Forty Creek, instead.

Asyla (40%)Blended Scotch

A blended Scotch, which means it’s comprised of both grain and malt whiskies. As would be expected, the profile is somewhere between the Hedonism and the Oak Cross.

Nose:Almost like a light Clynelish. Malty pear with a drop of farm and flowers. Still very light and approachable. If you can smell past the sweetness there are some delicious green pepper notes hiding in the drink.

Palate:Sweet and easy drinking. Malty pear flavors usually predict peppery notes and are hot, but here the pepper is extremely watery. Rich, Canadian-whisky type butterscotch as it trails off.

Like the Hedonism, this whisky comes with a luxury price tag. Clynelish and Old Pulteney both provide the same profile at the same price point but with a depth of flavor not found in this. Now, unseasoned whisky drinkers may find the mildness desirable, so choose between these with that in mind. This is an extremely accessible whisky and would be a good middle step for converting non-whisky people to the drink.

Palate:A little Cognac, a little honey, a little potting soil. Slightly drying. Peppery with a nice medium finish that leaves a rich tingle on the tongue.

In conversation, very few people would speak ill of Compass Box, and that this is a blended malt whisky is great, for its category, but the whole point of any blend is to make it more affordable. The trade off is cost to taste while attempting to balance the two. While these seem to be good for blending expositions, so far, they’re anything but affordable.

Palate:The pepper in this one amplifies as time passes and is the most aggressive yet. Numbing clove and Sichuan pepper on the tongue. Almost phenolic. Sweet and sherried with nutmeg and dried fig. Lime and polished leather.

Moving in a linear line, the Spice Tree has the most spice and sherry. The sweetness tones down a bit, though that’s not a bad thing. This one best frames some of the similarities between French Sessile oak (what we usually think of as wine casks) and Spanish Pendunculate oak (what we typically think of as sherry casks). Now we’re talking! This one is delicious and at around $60 right in the sweet spot of the flavor/price balancing act.

Peat Monster (46%)Blended Malt

I didn’t have high hopes for this one, seeing as the status quo for Compass Box is to blend “accessibly,” whatever that means. Most of the blends in this box have been less than inspiring for the price, kind of defeating the purpose of a blend, to me.

Palate:It’s surprisingly gentle on the palate. The peat creeps in and blossoms into bright iodine with a lime tang. Umami and mushrooms with salt that revs up in the finish into spicy fire. Easy going bandage phenols and a tiny bit of copper. The finish is delightful as the fumes expand through your mid-section and rise back up to your head, inescapably reminding you that you definitely drank a good dose of peat.

It’s not exactly what it says it is; not quite a monster… maybe a very desirable beast of peaty burden to carry you through your cravings. This provides a terrific example of how a whisky can be “accessible” and still please the whisky anoraks. For just under $50, the price is right, too!

The proof on these is on the low side, so if you’re looking for a face-melter, these won’t do. I think these are best suited to coax gentle drinkers in to the fold with easy to explore Scotches they can nose and drink comfortably.

SIA brand owner, Carin Luna-Ostaseski, began her journey as a hobbyist in her own kitchen. Satiating her curiosity by blending different whiskies from her personal whisky shelf, she began to understand how they interacted to create a new spirit; whiskies like mild, grain forward Auchentoshan; monstrously peated, umami Ardbeg; sweet and peppery Old Pulteney; malt forward Oban; all came together in her first trials.

Blending itself is infinitely complex. You’d think it was just measuring a little bit of reagent A and a little more reagent B into a jar, shake, and you get what you get, but there are so many more variables.

Proof alone can change a whisky from abrasive to delightful. Some get watered down and turn bitter or lose their edge, while others can open up and become deliciously fruity. Like how homemade soup is always better the next day, alcoholic mixtures marry and change over time in a phenomenon called “bottle shock,” as well. This means that the immediate product you smell or taste can be dramatically different after being left alone for a few days.

Often times these transformations are as difficult to understand as our own sense of smell. Blending is an art; a labor of love; an amorphous equation that eludes simple mathematical explanation. Factor in differences in each single cask along with age, proof and shock, and suddenly, making a whisky uniform, batch to batch, is no small feat… but Carin marched on.

After witnessing one of her friends start her own alcohol label on Kickstarter, Carin saw her own potential laid out before her. She got to work hosting tastings, conducting market research about what people liked and didn’t. She learned that the first impression was most important; if the nose isn’t welcoming, the consumer is less likely to take the first sip with an open mind and less likely to enjoy the experience overall. She found combinations people seemed to love, and some they hated. In true San Francisco spirit, she pushed on, arriving on the furthest coast, a consumer turned entrepreneur. Thus, she cut her teeth the old fashioned way, with lots of hard work, painstaking attention to detail and steely resolve. Her perseverance paid off and her journey culminated when a Kickstarter campaign to launch her brand brought in an impressive $45,784 (almost seven grand over her projected budget!).

With capital in hand, she settled on a profile people seemed to enjoy, tested it some more, and then shipped off a sample for Douglas Laing & Co. to try and recreate. They sent her several samples back and once they settled on the one they both felt was perfect, production began. The end product, a “proprietary mix” of distilleries’ whiskies ranging from 5-9 years in age, 40% of them malt and 60% grain.

Nose:Mild and approachable. There’s a calm peat resting faintly in the back. Sharper, malty notes slowly set in next. Freshly cut mushrooms and tomato glutamates. Hay and chocolate steeped in black coffee and then left to dry in the sun. Everything is in balance but a bit muted overall.

Palate:Gentle at first, like an ice cube just melted in your mouth. A peppery cinnamon slowly rises next. Peat peeks in with some vanilla phenols: “I love you, Vanilla!” it cries, “Will you marry with me? I know just the vatting.” To which Vanilla whispers, trembling, “Yes,” before calling its blended, milk chocolate mother.

There’s a lot going on in this whisky. It’s not very bold and the proof is on the low side, so the complexity can be easily overlooked, but the longer I spent with the glass, the longer I found new corners of it to explore.

It’s a sunny, rounded, easy-going drink and an obvious recommendation from me that should quickly appeal to the average non-geek. At around $55 a bottle I’d like to see the price come down a little, but this is obviously a small company so the price will hopefully move in a favorable direction as Carin brings this awesome new start-up up to speed.

“At 22, Jess Graber packed up his bags and moved to Colorado in hopes of finding himself and inspiration. A volunteer fire fighter, Jess fell in love with the mountains and discovered his love for distillation. And Colorado’s TINCUP whiskey was born.”-Tincup’s neck tag

Strange. Even ignoring the weird sentence fragment and the end, that blurb seems disjointed… like it’s missing something. Oh, that’s right. In between the firefighter thing and TINCUP, Graber established and then sold Stranahan’s to Proximo Spirits. He’s not completely free of Proximo, though. Now he’s lent his name to a sourced spiritunder their stewardship. Red, White and Bourbon’s Josh Chinn nailed it when he postulated the exact mix of MGPI mashbills used. Less than two months later they would officially confirm what Chinn surmised on his own. Nice job, Josh!

I’m not sure Proximo intended to reveal their source, though. It seems like Josh might have blown their cover and forced them into damage control mode. Like many bloggers before me who tried to jump on the story when Tincup first became available, Proximo never returned any of my emails and the Stranahan’s people were mildly annoyed by my queries. There was a vacuum of information.

Their more recent and painfully cheesy website seems to imply that they were working hard on the Colorado angle up until the flurry of interviews where Jess Graber gave away the game. Look at this ranch. Elk good. Water cold. Jess Graber not single. We make whisky. No. I’m sorry, Jess, but you don’t. Not anymore.

from tincupwhiskey.com

I have to admit, I’m pretty annoyed by people who buy from MGPI at this point. Trying to find new, American whisky has become a chore. These guys in Indiana are flooding the market. Now, I have to spend twice as long scouring labels looking for the word Indiana, or even better, the phrase distilled by followed by anywhere else, and it’s getting harder to avoid buying into it. There have been points where the open part of my whisky shelf had been inadvertently taken over by MGPI products. Not that all their stiff is swill, some of it is very good, but I’ve walked into smaller stores where they didn’t evenhave anything else other than the regulars (Johnnie, Jack, & Jim) and MGPI wares. That’s crazy!

Many of the non-distiller producers have the same lame excuse, too: I wanted it to be affordable. Well, sourced-whisky vendors, I wanted it to be different. I didn’t want my whisky shelf to be an MGPI collection. As if they knew people would eventually come to the same disappointed conclusion, they expanded their line-up last year, to include more rye mashes, along with a new wheat and a barley mash… sigh.

I have to give the Tincup team credit, though. This is a really cool looking bottle. The hexagonal shape makes me want to carry it with me and watch the spirit slosh around. Where Stranahan’s left it’s cup to be held on by gravity alone, and was often lost immediately after opening, the tin cup on top of Tincup actually screws onto the bottle, integrating nicely.

Nose: Smells more like rye than a Bourbon. Sunflower, carpenter’s pencil, cinnamon candies and 80’s ski lodge. Guava and salvaged barn board. Lime, celery stalk and sweet, virgin, pool liner. As it airs out, the graphite swells. It’s a little sharp but not very complicated.

Palate: Cherry cough drops with a tiny smudge of black licorice. Like the nose, the start of the palate screams rye, but as it progresses it let’s some Bourbon out. Blindfolded, I would have had a very difficult time guessing whether this was rye or Bourbon. Graphite with some cinnamon spice. Not a huge complicated whisky with a simple finish to match.

I give this rating very timidly and with one caveat: for the $27 I’ve seen stores sell it for, awesome, but for the $35 I see on a few websites, I’d hesitate.